The Irish standard., 1887-01-29
YouCHAL and BLACKWATER.
vignettes From the sketch-Book o.
an Irish Tourist in
Munster.

munster.
AN ELOQUENT AND PICTURESQUE
Narrative From the Pen of Mr.. Dona]
Sullivan, M. P.-Oappoquin
and Dromana.
Donal Sullivan, M. p, is the author
of the pictures of travel that follow.
/ had been on visit to the lovely re-
treat of Mount Melleray, he writes,
within whose portals sin and care can
not abide, and now emerged from its
quiet cloisters and shady bowers to
return to the world from which Ihad
short escape. The night before there
had been an incessant downpour of
heavy rain. This had now ceased, but
the atmosphere was still damp and
cold; and low. gray clouds hung over
the valley in which Cappoquin nestled.
Extending the gaze forward and up
ward, one could see the thick mist in
which the Waterford hills were
shrouded, and from beneath which
there now rushed forth in roaring tor
rents what, when I saw them couple
of days before, were but gurgling
streams. The scene at once brought to
nv mind the verses:
On Carrigdhoun the heath is brown,
The clouds are dark DER Ardnalee,
And many stream comes rushing down
To swell the angry Ownabwee.
AS the morning advanced, the heavy
clouds rolled back, and now and then
deep blue patches were seen in the sky
AS sped on from Cappoquin looked
back to'take a last long look at Mount
Melleray, behind which could see the
brown sides of Knockmeldhoun glist-
ening in the morning sun, while it's
peak was still wreathed in milky mist.
A little later on and the sun burst forth
in all his August glory. The raindrops
on the hedges and on the leafv branches
of the roadside trees sparkled like a
million diamonds. AS we proceeded,
my attention was attracted by robin
singing Justify, convenient to the road
side cabin. When heard thus in the
early morning, especially after rain and
storm, the robin is the sweetest of all
singing birds. Its cheerful notes fill
the heart with joyful expectation.
Beside a little cabin. on newly budding spray.
Sang little robin at the dawning of the day.
Cheer up, sang the robin,
Cheer up, cheer up, see,
All the clouds are posing,
For you as well as me.
We reached Cappoquin sans adven-
ture, and strolled about it's green and
shady lanes until the steamer came up
from Youghal. At about P. NJ, the
whistle of the Avonmore was heard,
and in a minute after the smoke of her
funnel was seen curling over the right
bank of the river as she gracefully swept
round curve in the Blackwater and
hove in sight. Slowly steaming up to
the bridge below the town, she dropped
anchor, and gang board having been
run out, her passengers and merchan-
disc we're landed.
At a few minutes after S o'clock her
whistle was once more heard invit-
ing passengers to hurry on board. The
usual scurry on deck having taken
place, and "Any more for Youghal?''
having been sung out by the cap.
tain, the final shrek was sounded and
the anchor was got on board. The
steamers head was then slowly swung
round, a thud was heard from her
engines, and the little vessel was under
way. Standing on her deck and look
ing down the stately river, we saw a
charming panorama. After the pre-
vious nights rain the river was very
much swollen and had overf1owed it's
banks. The Blackwater was series Of
lagunes from Cappoquin to Dromana.
Looking down the river flowing by
pretty villas with graceful lawns and
noble woods whose dropping ash and
willow kissed the water. we saw in the
distance blue hills, purpled with the
golden sun, forming the frame of pic
ture of surprising beauty. In the even
ing sunlight the gorgeous river with it's
voluptuous swell, looked, as Thomas
Davis described it:
The stream, like maiden
With love overiaden,
Pants wild on each shore.
A sudden bend in the river had almost
shut outmy last view Of Cappoauin when
I turned to look back at the charming
scene was leaving. The little town
with its white houses was sparkling in
the sun. Above the town, embedded
IN green woods, was Sir Richard Mus
graves palatial- looking mansion COM
q fine view of the valley of
the BlackWater. Higher up and farther
away, stood the silent and lonely Con-
vent of La Trappe; and towering over